


When the Sun Rises, I'll Be There for You

by Mademoisellesnowflake



Series: Our Home Under Athos' Roof [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, lots of hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mademoisellesnowflake/pseuds/Mademoisellesnowflake
Summary: Aramis comes home from a friend's wedding with a bloody suit and shaking hands. Porthos and the others take care of him.





	When the Sun Rises, I'll Be There for You

**Author's Note:**

> I might be starting a new modern AU with this (wow I have too many modern AUs, chill me) but as of now, there will be only one one-shot :D I hope you like it!

It had been arguably very long night for Porthos. Aramis had been away at a wedding but hadn’t turned up at home when he had promised to, which made it almost impossible for Porthos to fall asleep. He had been so worried, fearing the worst as Aramis was somewhat of a trouble-magnet. What if he’d been caught up in an accident or if someone had decided to take advantage of the care-free atmosphere of the wedding and take Aramis somewhere? The possibilities were endless and even though Porthos knew Aramis was no child, he was so very worried for his best friend.

As Porthos walked into the living room at 6 a.m. after giving up trying to sleep any more than the fitful three hours he’d slept, he stopped in his tracks. He could see the familiar shape of Aramis sitting on the sofa, his back and shoulders a little slumped. He’d had to have come back home at some point during the night but why he was sitting on the sofa instead of sleeping in his room, Porthos didn’t know.

“Aramis?” Porthos asked softly as he walked into the living room, deliberately making some noise for Aramis to hear.

Aramis’ head shot up, his eyes locking with Porthos’. He was shaking and still wore the suit he had been wearing to the wedding he’d attended. As Porthos rounded the sofa, he could see blood stains on the suit and his heart jumped into his throat.

“What happened?” Porthos asked, falling on his knees in front of Aramis. “Did you get hurt?”

“No”, Aramis breathed, “not my blood…not my blood.”

Aramis eyes were unfocused, and it was obvious that he was in some kind of state of shock. Porthos took Aramis’ hands in his own and squeezed them. Aramis was moving his lips, as is he was trying to say something but there was no sound coming out.

“I’m here”, Porthos whispered, hoping that the others hadn’t woken up yet because of the noise he’d made. He looked at Aramis and the suit that was more or less ruined by all the blood – _how much was there exactly?_ – and wondered where it all had come from.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Porthos asked quietly. “I think you should get out of that suit; it looks like the suit’s ruined and it would feel better when you weren’t covered in blood, don’t you think?”

“Someone might wake up”, Aramis protested weakly.

“They can go back to sleep if they wake up”, Porthos said and smiled kindly. “We were all worried for you. No one will mind if you wake them up with a little shower. I’ll go get you some fresh clothes from your room and you can shower in the downstairs bathroom.”

Aramis nodded and let Porthos help him up. Porthos’ heart calmed down a little when he realised Aramis could walk just fine, meaning that the blood really wasn’t his. As Aramis walked into the bathroom, Porthos went to collect some fresh and comfortable clothes for him.

When Porthos walked into the bathroom, he saw Aramis trying and failing to take off his dress shirt. His hands shook, making it impossible for him to open the blood-soaked buttons of the shirt. Porthos wordlessly walked in front of Aramis and began unbuttoning the shirt while Aramis let his arms hang limply at his sides.

“I think your suit is ruined”, Porthos whispered. “There’s no way dry cleaners can get that blood off.”

“I see”, Aramis mumbled. Porthos noted absently that the quietness in the house was almost ringing in his ears. “Don’t throw it away just yet?”

“I won’t”, Porthos said and, without thinking, lifted Aramis’ hand to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll go make some breakfast.”

Only after closing the bathroom door and walking into the kitchen, Porthos realised that kissing Aramis’ hand had probably been a little too much as Aramis had no idea of Porthos’ feelings. He flushed bright red and was almost scared out of his skin when he heard Athos coughing quietly in the kitchen.

“Did he come home?” Athos asked, looking part worried and part amused.

“Yes”, Porthos mumbled, “he got home covered in blood.”

“ _What?_ ” Athos asked, looking about as disbelieving as he sounded. “Did he say what happened?”

“He didn’t”, Porthos muttered as he began collecting ingredients for some breakfast sandwiches as well as fishing few frozen croissants from the freezer to warm for the breakfast. “He only asked me to not throw away his suit yet…”

“God”, Athos said as he sat down on a free chair. “What on earth happened last night?”

“I don’t know”, Porthos said as he made the sandwiches, using more force than probably necessary. “Whatever it was, he was still shaken after it.”

* * *

As Aramis stepped out of the bathroom wearing the soft slacks and hoodie Porthos had found for him, he felt wretched. His hands were still shaking and the moments right before the car’s impact with Isabelle were still playing in his mind. It felt as if his brain was trying to figure out a way to change his memory of the moment the happy atmosphere after the wedding had shattered.

Aramis remembered what Porthos had promised about breakfast and quietly walked into the kitchen where he saw both Athos and Porthos quietly talking about something. For a moment, he could only stare at the sight that was so achingly homely that it made his throat constrict painfully. He made a pitiful noise at the back of his throat which made Athos and Porthos immediately look at him.

“Aramis?” Athos asked quietly. “How are you?”

Aramis didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he could even say anything – it was like his voice had betrayed him. He shook his head and, before he really knew what was happening, he was crying. And then there was Porthos’ smell and his arms encircling Aramis and Porthos was kissing the top of Aramis head as well as his forehead.

“I’m here”, Porthos said as he squeezed Aramis. “You’re safe now.”

Aramis tried to cry quietly, oh he really tried to, but his panic and anxiety refused to leak out of him quietly. Aramis didn’t want to wake up Constance or d’Artagnan as it was still early on a Sunday morning and the two liked to sleep in on weekends. Athos and Porthos were holding him, trying to let him know that he was safe at home and that they would keep him safe as well as they could.

“Do you want some breakfast?” Athos asked gently. “Porthos made some for us and you definitely look like you need some.”

Aramis nodded but wouldn’t let go of the back of Porthos’ shirt. Porthos pressed another kiss on his hairline and mumbled something only Aramis could hear. Aramis let go of the shirt and allowed Porthos to lead him to the kitchen table.

“Take some of the sandwiches”, Porthos said and offered the plate to Aramis. “I made them with the cheese you like.”

Aramis nodded and started eating one of the sandwiches. He was still crying as he ate, and the taste of tears got mixed up with the taste of Porthos’ delicious sandwiches. Porthos was rubbing Aramis’ shoulder as he ate, trying to calm Aramis down even a little.

“Do you think you can tell us what happened?”, Athos asked. “Did someone hurt you?”

Aramis shook his head and swallowed what he had in his mouth. He grabbed Porthos’ hand and inhaled deeply before starting to form an answer.

“Isabelle was at the wedding too”, he told, his voice rough, “the bride is a common friend of ours. We went to the afterparty together and left at the same time. Since all the buses had gone and we didn’t want to call a taxi, we decided to walk because our direction was mostly the same. At the crossroads where we would have gone our own ways, a speeder hit Isabelle with their car…”

“Oh god”, Porthos whispered. “Is she…?”

“I called an ambulance and she’s in a hospital now”, Aramis said and rubbed his teary eyes. “They wouldn’t let me stay with her because I’m not family, so I walked back home.”

In reality they all knew Aramis and Isabelle were as good as family. They had grown up together and had been friends since they had barely known how to walk. The case of a failed relationship and a lost baby at seventeen had strained their friendship but they’d managed to reconcile and stay as close friends.

“God, I’m so sorry, Aramis”, Porthos whispered and hugged Aramis again. “That must have been a terrible way to end a night you were supposed to be celebrating. Do you think you could sleep a little today?”

“No”, Aramis mumbled. “Don’t want any nightmares now.”

“Of course”, Porthos said. “We can just chill in the living room.”

“Good”, Aramis breathed, still leaning on Porthos’ shoulder. He still felt wretched for what had happened but his brothers being there for him helped a little. Especially Porthos’ presence made his heart flutter and his brain to calm down a bit.

“I’ll clean up the table”, Athos said. “You two rest.”

“Thanks, Athos”, Aramis whispered. Porthos helped him up and they walked to the living room where they occupied the softest sofa. Porthos played with Aramis’ hair while Aramis leaned on Porthos, drawing some strength from him.

When Constance walked downstairs only moments later and noticed Aramis and his teary eyes, she immediately rushed to him and gave him the most sisterly hug she could. She held him as he sniffled and as Porthos explained to her what had happened. She cursed the speeder to the lowest pits of hell when Porthos was done with his explanation.

Aramis smiled a melancholy smile as Constance held him firmly. With his found family he knew he was safe and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback will be much appreciated!


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